Why would you think that?
by bbcsherlocklover
Summary: 5 year old Sherlock is depressed. Something happened to his father and 17 year old Mycroft wants to help. (My first fanfiction) PLEASE REVIEW AND RATE (Sorry if you are american and reading this but the school years i use are different) :D
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"I'm worried about him…" 17 year-old Mycroft stated as him and his best friend Greg watched Mycroft's brother, Sherlock. He was sitting emotionless on his father's arm chair in the living room staring into space for hours.

"Why?"Greg questioned.

"Look at him; he's so miserable since…" Mycroft's voice trailed off as he remembered the accident.

Greg put an understanding hand on Mycroft's shoulder. It wasn't long ago when it happened. Sherlock had acted different ever since the accident with their father.

"Mycroft… what exactly happened?" Greg asked hesitantly.

Mycroft was desperately trying to stop the tears in his eyes running down his face then quickly brushed past Greg to avoid the question, into the kitchen.

* * *

"Sherlock, eat this." Mycroft said as he handed Sherlock a sandwich.

Sherlock ignored it as if Mycroft wasn't even there and stared right through him. He hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon and it was 4:00pm the next day now. Mycroft sighed and set the plate down on the table next to his dad's arm chair that Sherlock hadn't moved from for six hours. Mycroft sighed and sat next to Greg on the sofa opposite. Suddenly Sherlock's hand moved and Mycroft was hoping he would reach for the sandwich. But he didn't. Instead he spoke, startling both Mycroft and Greg.

"It's all my fault isn't it?" He stated with his voice monotone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"…What is, Sherlock?" Mycroft uneasily asked.

Sherlock didn't answer and simply stood up and left without anymore dialogue between him and his elder brother. Mycroft lay back on the sofa stressed and confused. Greg was patting his friend's shoulder as he heard Sherlock's little feet slowly mope up the stairs. _Sherlock was five, he shouldn't be so depressed._ Mycroft thought, _what did he think was his fault- oh… _ It finally clicked. Sherlock thought what happened to his father was his fault.

* * *

After Greg went home, Mycroft crept into Sherlock's to check on him. Sherlock was in bed- Mycroft thought he was sleeping- as Mycroft walked over to his bed to kiss him goodnight, he saw his little brother awake (eyes narrow) in a cocoon he made with his duvet. Sherlock always did that when he was thinking. Mycroft knelt down beside Sherlock's head.

"Sherlock, you have to talk or I can't help you…"

Sherlock didn't move and it looked as if he didn't acknowledge his big brother was there- but of course he did- Sherlock acknowledges everything. _I don't need help._ Sherlock thought Mycroft sighed.

"If you talk I'll play pirates with you…?" Mycroft tried again.

Sherlock slowly but surely emerges from his cocoon (he could never resist anything to do with pirates). Mycroft thanks Sherlock and for the next 20 minutes tries to get Sherlock to explain why he thinks it's his fault- before realising it is way past Sherlock's bedtime. Mycroft kisses little Sherlock's forehead and as he opens the door Sherlock says:

"If it's not my fault, how did father die?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Mycroft was unsure about what to answer.

"… Ask mother."

"Well, where is she?" Sherlock questioned.

Mycroft didn't actually know. He shrugged and told Sherlock she's probably gone to town for work because that's where she usually goes off to. Sherlock nodded as Mycroft left the room.

Mycroft changed into his pyjamas and brushed his teeth and happily hopped into bed after his troubled day with Sherlock. He fell asleep almost instantly, whereas Sherlock was in his cocoon duvet for another two hours. And by the time he fell asleep it was 11:30pm. He wished his mum was there to tuck him into bed like when he was three. But she was always busy with work, and now his dad wasn't here either he felt even lonelier. He didn't miss his father that much, but he just felt what happened to him was his fault. But Mycroft made him feel slightly better. His big brother always helps him feel better but it's not as the same as having his mother with him.

* * *

The next morning, Mycroft woke up at 6:45 am and went downstairs for breakfast then got dressed and ready for school. When he finished getting ready it was 7:30 am. So he sat reading a book in the garden as it was a beautiful spring day. He didn't start school until 9:00am so he had plenty of time. Sherlock was homeschooled because of his… troublesome time in year one. So he can get up practically whenever because his mum is hardly around to tell him what to do. At 8:30am the phone rang and Mycroft hurried to get so he didn't wake Sherlock because it was a miracle that he was sleeping.

*On the phone*

"Hello? Yes… oh- she's not here right now. Probably not anytime soon… Today? Okay. Where? …Okay sure. –Thanks bye."

Mycroft puts down the phone and goes upstairs to grab his mobile in his room to call Greg. He sits on his bed and patiently waits for Greg to answer.

"Hey Greg… I have to go to the morgue-. They need to give some information about my father. Yes today- Yeah, I guess I'll have to miss school since my mother's not here to go- I was hoping… you would come with me..? Really? Great! Thanks. –Haha yeah it's fun missing a day of school. I know how much you enjoy examining dead bodies. No, it's fine, hehe. I know you want to be a detective inspector when you're older. Okay see you at 9:15? Good, thanks bye."

As Mycroft put the phone down he gave a sigh of relief, he didn't want to go to the morgue by himself.

* * *

Mycroft arrived at the morgue in his car at the same time as Greg (on his motorbike) did. They greeted each other and walked into the morgue. Mycroft was nervous about what he was going to be told about his father, Greg was trying to be supportive but he didn't really know what to do. As they walked into a rather small room they noticed a thin woman with brown-ginger hair and a smaller version of her. _Probably her daughter._ Mycroft thought. The doctor introduced herself and her daughter (Molly) and explained that Molly's school was on Easter holidays early and she wanted to come to work with her. Apparently Molly always wanted to be Pathology Lab Assistant when she was older and found it all quite fascinating.

"Uhh… So what did you want to inform me about?" Mycroft asked uneasily.

"Ah yes, well… It turns out your father didn't die because of the car crash… He had a… heart attack which…caused him to lose control of the steering…and…" She stuttered sympathetically.

Mycroft stood frozen like ice- stunned. _Now I can prove to Sherlock it wasn't his fault. But I have to tell him gently… I wonder what caused the heart attack... Maybe Sherlock will feel better now…_ Mycroft had all these thoughts racing through his head. He sighed with relief (he meant to sigh in his head). Mycroft asked some questions and Dr. Hooper answered and then she and her daughter left to do some paperwork.

"So… That's what happened..? A car crash…" Greg questioned.

"I wanted to tell you but I thought I might start crying and… that would be embarrassing…" Mycroft explained. "So I thought I would tell you by bringing you here."

"I wouldn't laugh, Mycroft. I understand…"

Mycroft nodded thankfully. They carried on talking for a minute when Dr. Hooper came back into the room and handed them a small pile of paperwork. Once that was filled out they thanked the doctor and Molly and left the morgue. There was a gentle breeze as they walked outside and Mycroft checked his watch. It was 11:47am, so they thought they'd get an early lunch.

* * *

They arrived outside a small café next to some flats and went inside to order some food. Mycroft ordered: A tuna sandwich, fruit pot and an oasis drink. Greg ordered: A cheese and tomato sandwich, Banana, Cadburys caramel bar and orange juice. They decided they had enough talk out Mycroft's father's death and started chatting about school. Mycroft very much enjoyed school (apart from the other pupils) whilst Greg hated it. He always complained about school: work, teachers, homework… EVERYTHING! He just wanted to leave and become a police officer (preferably a detective inspector).

When they finished their meal it was 12:32pm and started making their way home. Greg had to go to because his dad, who was fine for him to go with Mycroft and miss school, wanted him to help clear the garage. So Mycroft had to deal with Sherlock by himself and explain what actually happened to their father. He arrived and opened the door to find Sherlock standing right in front of him staring up into his big brother's eyes. _Great, now I can tell Sherlock straight away… _Mycroft sarcastically thought. He took a deep breath, unsure about what Sherlock's reaction would be.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Hey Sherlock," Mycroft began, "Why don't we have a talk..?"

Sherlock hesitates then nods, and then out of the blue, hugs Mycroft. Mycroft hugged back and led Sherlock to the kitchen. They sat on a stool each at the breakfast bar. Mycroft sighed.

"Okay…" He started, "Look Sherlock, you think that father died because of you right?"

Sherlock hesitantly nodded.

"Well…what if I proved to you that it wasn't your fault…?" Mycroft questioned.

Sherlock tilted his head which showed his confusion.

"Well, I went to the morgue to get some information about… the accident, and well… it turns out your constant talking didn't distract father in the car-"

"So what did?" Sherlock interrupted quietly.

"He had a-uh… heart attack…"

Sherlock was stunned.

"Really?" He asked, still confused.

Mycroft nodded.

"Yes, so that made him lose control of the steering…and…"

The little five year old was still processing. Then he suddenly gave out a loud sigh of relief which made Mycroft jump.

"Oh thank goodness!" Sherlock sighed.

"Huh?"

"This is great! I mean not that our dad died…But now I don't have to feel guilty!" Sherlock grinned.

"Sherlock, I-…So-…You-…"

Mycroft didn't know what to say. Was he meant to be relieved that Sherlock didn't feel guilty anymore or worried that he was happy in this situation?

"It's just that… He wasn't very nice… I mean he wasn't awful, he was just… weird and…creepy?

"I understand. I feel the same…"

"Can I go play?" Sherlock asked eagerly.

"Uh…sure…" Mycroft replied, glad the subject was changed.

_So that's it? He's fine now? That was easier than I thought I would be… _Mycroft thought. _I hope he doesn't have questions… Why do I even have to answer them? Mother should, but of course she's never here! Well, at least he's back to normal now. It will be nice to have hyper active Sherlock back._ He smiled at himself.

* * *

"Sherlock! Time for bed!" Mycroft grinned as he walked into Sherlock's room. He was happy his brother was back to his old self.

"But it's too early!" Sherlock whined.

Mycroft pointed at the clock. It was 9:30pm. Sherlock sighed and packed his toys away reluctantly. Mycroft helped him put his pyjamas on and brush his teeth (he was a lot more dependent than a usual 5 year old). As usual, Sherlock picked a book and clambered into bed (He was very smart so he could read but he liked it when Mycroft read to him). Mycroft sat on the end of Sherlock's bed as Sherlock forced the book onto his brother's lap. Mycroft read the first five pages as little Sherlock gradually fell asleep. Silently, Mycroft put the book away and went to bed himself-by now it was 10:00pm-and fell asleep peacefully. "Finally, things are right again." Mycroft whispered to himself with a smile on his face.


End file.
